


The Good, The Bad, and The Need

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Bottom!Cas, Cas Is A Size Queen, M/M, Perhaps A Bit Of Verbal Humiliation?, Size Kink, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3694010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a size queen.<br/>That makes Dean his servant.<br/>Or maybe his jester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good, The Bad, and The Need

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, feedback, feedback! Written for an anon on Tumblr. This is kind of embarrassing.

"Shh, babe," Dean whispers. "I know." Cas wiggles some more, in an attempt to spur Dean to go faster, but it does nothing. He shoves himself back impatiently.

 

“Please, Dean, I already- Ah!”

 

Dean smiles against the small of Cas’ spine and scissors lazily, just to hear the wrecked whimper from the back of his throat. “Mmm.” He purrs. The fluff of pleasure clouding Cas’ judgement has been chased away, replaced by want and annoyance. “Just stick it in already,” Cas demands.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean murmurs, pressing a few lazy kisses to Cas’ thighs.

 

“You’re not _going_ to,” Cas growls. His leg shoots back to hit Dean square in the chest- not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to knock him back -and Cas scrambles to straddle his hips. A triumphant smirk curls his lips, and, slowly, slowly, he starts to lower himself down on Dean’s cock.

 

They both let out a drawn-out moan when Cas’ rim just passes Dean’s head. Dean’s need doesn’t show for long, and he’s back to the one being smug. “How’s that feel, babe? Bet you love this, hmm? Love getting stuffed full.” Cas cries out, looking like he’s on the verge of tears, he’s so pent up. There’s a flush threatening to creep down his chest. He’s gorgeous.

 

Cas is so new to all this, so tight, and Dean is huge. It doesn’t really mix. It took nearly an hour the first time they ever slept together just to get Cas loose enough to take three fingers. Cas is a sort of vice around Dean, so hot and snug and wet that he’ll be seeing stars within the first few minutes of the whole ordeal. For Cas, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to; there’s still a sort of dull pain, but he kinda likes it.

 

Not that he’d ever tell Dean.

 

Cas’ palms are pressed firmly to Dean’s stomach, support for every little bounce or shift. His knees lock up around Dean’s sides once he starts bucking up into him.

 

“Dean!”

 

Dean sucks in a harsh breath. “C’mon, Cas. I thought you wanted it.” Cas spurs forward, perky little ass moving faster than Dean ever knew. He clenches down reflexively. Dean screws his eyes shut and pants, relishing in the feeling of everything. It’s the sweetest torture a man could ever feel.

 

Cas comes with a hoarse moan, painting himself and Dean in long strings of white. He shudders to a stop. Dean grunts and nudges him, drawing a whine from his lips. Cas starts a reluctant rhythm again until Dean’s on even ground, filling him up with heat.

 

When Cas is collapsed in a pile by Dean’s side, he rolls over to stir him. “On your stomach, hon,” Dean instructs. Cas gives a sort of pained groan, but rolls over anyway, so open for Dean. He leaves a trail of lazy kisses down his spine. Cas shivers when Dean gets to the soft swell of his ass, pressing his cheek against the mattress and spreading his legs a bit wider. Dean hums in appreciation.

 

Dean starts with slow, broad strokes. It doesn’t do anything for Cas, but there’s no use in arguing. Dean loves taking his time. Cas nearly falls asleep at the warm sensation, just barely registering it, until Dean starts nipping and sucking like he’s trying to leave a bruise. Any fatigue leaves Cas in a woosh.

 

They’d both come so soon beforehand that there’s no chance of getting it up again, Dean knows, but Cas is still taking it, bucking against the sheets in no time. He tastes like musk and come and something eternally, gracefully _Cas_. Dean swirls his tongue and pulls away.

 

“That okay?” Dean asks, crawling up to meet with Cas again. He nods and snuggles closer.

  
“‘M gonna be sore for a week,” Cas declares.  


End file.
